To Be Alive is Not to Live
by A.Hand.Full.Of.Pearls
Summary: Based on the photos from series 2, episode 5. Pritchard the Butler meets a woman who changes his view of life, duty and love...Now 7 chapters long! How his story should have ended because the BBC got it wrong!
1. Lost

Warwick Pritchard took great pride in his work at 165 Eaton Place. The crystal glasses sparkled, the dinners were always on time and house ran like clockwork…well, usually it did. He ran his hand over a non-existent wrinkle in his jacket, frowning at the recent events of the past months. First Miss Buck fell ill, then that strange scandal with Dr Mottershead and _that _woman and now her Ladyship was at odds with both her sister and her husband. How could things unravel so quickly? Pritchard liked routine; routines had worked for the past 27 years…why would they stop now? Maybe he was losing his touch?

No, that defiantly wasn't it.

Sighing, Pritchard stood up and looked around the empty kitchen. The surfaces were clean and well scrubbed and everything was neatly put away. That Eunice was turning out rather satisfactorily, if a little slowly. He yawned discreetly, as it would never do to look tired even off duty, and made his way across the wooden floor to lock the doors. The house was silent and still. And dark. And lonely.

Oh, how ridiculous.

Shaking his head quickly, as if to dispel the unwanted opinions from his brain, Pritchard went to bed swiftly. If a little unsettled.

Maybe it was all the talk of war. Yes, of course! That was it. All that argument and disruption from his schedule…at least the staff still respected him.

The lamp died next to him in a dull, tired sort of way and Warwick Pritchard was encased in darkness.

He had never felt more lost.

* * *

><p>Miss Whisset was busy. Well, that was an understatement really; she was completely and utterly swept off her feet. Being the Ladies Maid of a very rich, prominent woman did that sort of thing to you, always a new scandal, another stocking to mend, 3 more maids to scold. She chewed her lip in agitation; all those years in service, perfecting her routine and for what? Decent maids were so hard to come by now…she had caught the newest addition to the household in bed with the butcher's boy.<p>

Well, really…it wasn't as if they were even trying to be quiet.

Thinking of the simply silly noises that had been coming from the servants room last week made another catch her attention. Somewhere ahead of her on the bustling street a loud wooden clunking was steadily louder and louder. Ordinarily it wouldn't have bothered her but today, today she was on a tight schedule and it involved carrying a lot of parcels which seemed to be getting heavier by the minute.

Her ladyship had wanted a sudden shopping spree at the most expensive store and there simply hadn't been enough room in the car for all her glittery over priced hairclips and shoes. Miss Whisset prided herself on her ability to help in any situation and had offered to carry the rest. How stupid that offer seemed to be now.

She was so swept up in her thoughts that she walked straight into someone standing very still in the middle of the pavement. By the pain in her temple he seemed to be wearing the most ridiculously hard hat.

The parcels flew everywhere and she lost her footing, damn that lose heel on her shoe, and fell straight into the man, for that was what he apparently was judging by the shout of surprise he gave as she collapsed on top of him.

For a few tiny seconds they stared at each other, noses nearly touching and legs sprawled awkwardly. The she felt something hard pressing her leg…

The parcels fell with surprising noise around them and Miss Whisset pushed herself away from him with slightly unnecessary force. "I do apologise, I am so sorry…" She trailed off, the blood rushed to her cheeks and she felt incredibly hot and flustered.

Warwick Pritchard peered up at her from the floor, completely winded and dazed by the sudden weight on a woman on top of him. He got up with as much dignity as he could muster and straightened his time helmet. The woman that stood before him was not, as he had assumed, an over eager kitchen maid but was instead a tall, handsome woman with a surprising air of authority. Well, she would have been if she hadn't been quite so utterly speechless.

With her hand clapped to her mouth Miss Whisset found herself unable to do anything but squeak. What had just happened? Ridiculous at her age…

The man held up a thick broken wooden object in front of her forlornly "I think you landed on my…" Mr Pritchard broke off, she had broken his air siren. They both stared at it for a moment and then realisation hit them both at the same time.

"…I thought…I am so sorry, I thought you'd…" Miss Whisset spluttered, the ludicrousness of the situation was making it very hard not to laugh. At first the man looked highly affronted and make to gesture with the thing but the end fell off completely, falling to the floor with a loud thud. The sudden noise seemed to knock them both back into reality and the woman laughed, shyly at first but soon they were both laughing.

"Pritchard,Warwick Pritchard, Bulter"

He extended his hand almost gracefully to her in the air of one who practiced. Miss Whisset took it still smiling

"Whisset, Violet Whisset, Ladies Maid. Sorry for knocking you over"

Mr Pritchard smiled genuinely at her as they shook hands. "Apology accepted. Sorry for…confusing you" Miss Whisset felt her lips twitch into a knowing smile as if they had know each other years and were sharing a very old private joke.

Slowly they gathered the dropped parcels together and time seemed to gain back its normal speed.

"You are sure I can't help you more?" Warwickfelt instinctively that he should see her home. It was nearly evening after all now.

"No, no! Don't worry, I quite capable of fighting away ruffians! Its just butlers with helmets on that seem to get the better of me!" Miss Whisset's shy smiling eyes met his over the large pile of brown packages and he couldn't help but chuckle. Her glasses shone in return and she made to leave, walking briskly down the road. Mr Pritchard watched her for a moment, taking in what had just happened for the first time. He blinked foolishly for a moment and brushed off the dirt from the street from his coat. She was wearing a very nice coat, grey and long, very elegant. What a strange thought. He blinked again, unsure of where his mind was taking him. She had smiled at him. No, not at him, with him he corrected himself.

With a moments hesitation he turned and ran after her down the road. Not entirely sure what he was doing he round the street corner and nearly bumped into her again.

"Sorry"

They both spoke at the same time, awkward and hurried.

"I could call on you some time?" It was a badly phrased question that seemed to fall out of Pritchard's mouth before he could stop himself. Miss Whisset seemed taken aback by his forwardness and raised her eyebrows, adjusting the parcels that sat in her arms. There was a pause in which she seemed to be scrutinising him. All the traces of the nervous, shocked woman he had had on top of him for a split second were gone and had been replaced by a confident glint in her blue eyes.

"Very well." Miss Whisset paused tilting hr head on one side, blonde hair moving gently in the evening breeze. "My day off is Sunday. I like the Park"

"So do I" Suddenly feeling very much like a naughty school boy Pritchard straightened his tie needlessly and cleared his throat, aware of her judging eyes sweeping his face.

"Good" She turned and walked smartly away. Pritchard found himself grinning. Well, why not? He could do things too couldn't he? Very suddenly he was reminded of all the times he had spoken a harsh word on watched her figure silhouetted against the dark with unsure eyes. A female friend.

He had never felt more alive.

_ Well, there it is! Please let me know what you think via message! ….I haven't felt this inspired to write since my epic Downton Abbey saga! Yay! I'll post most nights at about midnight!…there seems to be a woeful lack of Upstairs Downstairs fics…follow me on Tumblr thereislaceatstake for more updates and fangirling!_


	2. A Stroll on Sunday

The week flew by Pritchard uneventfully. Well, the usual routine was quite normal… it was more his head which seemed to be unable to concentrate on a simple task. He had already broken a glass _and_ had walked straight into Dr Mottershead on the stairs. He needed a distraction. Correction; he needed to be distracted from his distraction!

Sunday dawned bright and beautiful.

It made Warwick nervous.

It didn't help that Mrs Thackeray and Eunice kept giggling over the breakfast preparations, and kept throwing amused looks in his general direction.

Promptly he left 165 Eaton Place at the strike of1:45, so as to get to the Park gates for exactly 2:00. It had become his habit to plan out occasions as if the queen herself were present, and so his mind was darting here and there, trying to work out some sort of schedule for the afternoon and, he gulped, what could go wrong.

He already had a list of 103 bad incidents that could occur to run afternoon.

Rain was number 1. Saying something ridiculous was number 2.

"Looking for me?" Violet Whisset's voice came from behind him, abruptly cutting off his train of thought.

He turned and grinned in a very un-butler-ish way. She looked startled.

Scaring her had been incident number 46. Damn.

"Sorry." He mumbled, straightening his coat self-consciously. For a moment they both stood awkwardly by the park gates.

The gentle breeze causing ripples in the blue fabric of Miss Whisset's skirt. Then she said softly "Shall we go for a walk?"

"Yes, that would be nice. Would you like to go for a walk?"

She paused wrong footed. "Yes. That's why I suggested it."

"Oh" Warwick inwardly scolded himself, why was he so nervous? Be a gentleman, be a man at least. Now what do gentlemen do? They offer an arm.

"Take my arm then!" He stuck his arm out in front of her and she raised her eyebrows in amusement.

"A 'Please' wouldn't amiss" Miss Whisset regarded him sternly for a few moments till the poor mans smile faltered and she realized he had no idea what to do.

"Don't worry," she gracefully accepted his arm and patted his sleeve "I'm not really sure what I'm doing either!"  
>It seemed to take a moment for her words to sink in, but when they did Mr Pritchard's face broke into a nervous grin, which was slightly less startling then before. She couldn't help but to grin back.<p>

They walked down the gravel path toward the lake, arms linked lightly, and slowly conversation began to flow.

They spoke of work at first, of life in service. Miss Whisset, like Pritchard, had worked her way though the ranks and was finally in the steady position of ladies maid she'd always wanted.

"You never wished to be housekeeper one day?"

She chewed her lip in a rather endearing way and shook her head, a smile lightly tugging at the corners of her lips. "No, I think that is a little too much responsibility!"

Warwick watched her as she took in the view, lost in her own thoughts.

At the foot of the hill the ducks surrounded them and from her handbag Miss Whisset produced some rather blacked bread. "New kitchen maid." They fed the quacking birds slowly, letting the crumbs drop on to the pathway in a way neither would dare to do when at work.

The lake stretched impressively across the park, the water shone merrily in the sun and reflected their figures as they stopped by a bench. Somewhat reluctantly Warwick relinquished Miss Whisset's arm and settled himself next to her. Until now the height different between them hadn't really bothered her, but then he noticed her stretch her long legs out in front of her in a rather cat like way. Feeling rather short he swung his own legs underneath the wooden panels of the bench and was annoyed to find they didn't even reach the floor.

"I've always been tall"

Once again her soft voice interrupted his thoughts as if she were reading his mind. "Oh?" He inquired, turning to face her and finding her closer than anticipated.

"Yes," Violet trailed off, aware of how close she had accidentally put herself next to him. Her cheeks blushed a bright red, and she put her pale hands against them in her embarrassment, again unnecessarily flustered. "I was tall even as a little girl, always a head taller than the others…" Horribly aware of how much she was babbling she stopped hastily and flicked her eyes back to Mr Pritchard who was gazing at her hand in sudden agitation. "Something wrong?"

"Did I do that?"

"What?" Miss Whisset inspected her hand and realised he was talking about an angry red graze down the side of her palm. "Oh no, of course not! I mean, I did fall on top of you!"

His nervousness vanished and was instantly replaced by warmth as she offered her hand for his inspection. Warwick Pritchard had not been this close to a woman in years. Well, except for that time when he delivered Lady Agnes' first child, but that really _didn't _count! Her skin was soft and warm. The force of her fall on the gravel had caused little angry red marks where the stone had bit into her flesh. Gently he let his thumb brush over the marks.

Violet hadn't realised she had been holding her breath till his coarse touch made her sigh rather more loudly than she would deem appropriate. "It doesn't hurt" She felt her finger impulsively close around his.

From the list of good things (that only had 9 possible outcomes) number 7 had just been achieved. Pritchard shyly raised his eyes from her hand and found her face mirroring his, hesitantly he squeezed her hand back and Miss Whisset smiled slowly at him in return.

The park was quieter now that the afternoon was wearing on and they had relaxed in each others company.

The sun beamed down in a tired sort of way. Violet held his arm comfortably, resting her hand against the crook of his elbow.

"Free next week?" Pritchard smiled up at her.

"Yes."

"Same again?"

"If we must…." She grinned and squeezed his arm and in a moment of pure madness bent down and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

Pritchard stood stunned.

Slowly he brought his hand up to his cheek and patted the place her lips had touched. Number 1 on his list of good things had happened! Almost as if fate were out to taunt him it began to rain. Well, he couldn't have everything.

"Thank you."

Violet giggled in a very out of character way. "You're welcome."

He walked her home in the rain. They didn't hurry, as it turned out they both rather enjoyed the rain after the heat of the midday sun.

That night Warwick sat in his bed staring at the wall opposite. Today had been a good day; in fact he would go so far as to say it had been an excellent day. The best he had enjoyed in a long time. They why did he feel so suddenly lost? Almost in answer his cheek tingled and he brushed his knuckles subconsciously against the patch her lips had swiftly brushed.

He felt curiously elated at the thought of seeing her again.

Next Sunday could not come quick enough for Warwick Pritchard.


	3. Brighton

Every week they met. Every Sunday at 2 precisely. Just the park at first but then to the Pictures, to tiny cafes who served terrible tea, to the Zoo and, as summer approached, a trip to the seaside.

It had been Violet who had suggested it.

To both of them, stuck in grand houses in the city day after day, it seemed like the best way to escape.

Warwick was unsure as to exactly when they had casually slipped into first name terms but he rather liked it. No one called him by his Christian name anymore and to hear it slip gently off Miss Whissets lips was rather delightful.

They had planned their little adventure meticulously over several weeks and now it was only one more week to go. They were visiting a seaside town called Brighton, to which neither had been before and Pritchard was rather excited. He had chosen his outfit, yes he did do that sort of thing, planning really was his strong point. The closer Sunday came the more nervous he got. It did not go unnoticed by the other inhabitants of165 Eaton Place. Twice Pritchard caught Johnny, Beryl and Eunice giggling in the kitchens. On the same day.

"Don't worry love, it'll all be fine" Mrs Thackeray's coarse voice cut across the silence in his office.

"Yes, well…"Warwick sighed. As much as he hated to admit it to anyone, let alone himself, he could really do with some advice "I've not really done this sort of thing…" he gestured randomly to his left, Mrs Thackeray raised her eyebrows and smirked at him from the door frame "…Thank you for the normal support" he finished somewhat lamely. She grinned "Cup of tea?" He nodded wearily.

"Best to get it over and done with quickly!" The cook's cynical tone was obvious "Just shut your eyes…and lean forwards"

Pritchard stared at her blankly. "I know how to kiss!"

There was a rather awkward pause.

Mrs Thackeray rolled her eyes and smiled indulgently with a shake of her head

"Of course you do dear"

…

The moment had been perfect; the Brighton coast hummed a calming hush as the blue waves lapped the beach, the clear sky shone down on them, her soft grip upon his hand…Pritchard felt instinctively it was time to strike.

If this was a dinner party, it was time for the dessert.

Eagerly he turned towards her and brought his hand up to her face…

SMACK

There was a sickening crack.

Warwick sat, arm suspended, staring at Violet in shock who in return looked equally terrified.

"I am so sorry…."

Thickly Warwick brought his hand back to his own face and was mildly surprised to find it came away covered in blood.

His nose hurt.

Violet lead him to a near by bench and began hastily pulling tissues from her handbag and dabbing his nose with them gingerly, apologising non stop and red in the face with shame.

"Did…did you hit me?" The words fell bluntly from Pritchard as he stared with disbelief at Miss Whisset.

"No…I am so sorry, my darling…I was, I was going to…" She sighed loudly torn between humiliation and tears.

Gently she brought her hands up to his face and wiped at his bloody nose gently, aware of how much she was stared up at her completely confused but contented as her fingers tenderly caressed his face. Violet gathered her remaining courage and placed a hand on each cheek, looking Warwick full in the face.

"I was going to kiss you"

"Oh"

"Sorry" She whispered quietly. Violet made to pull her hands away, expecting rejection. For a moment he looked totally confused but then his face broke into a lopsided smile. Pritchard caught her retreating hands and held them fast, careful to avoid his nose.

"Next time we shall give each other pior warning that we are about to kiss so we don't crash?"

Violet let slip a weak giggle and stroked his cheek affectionately.

"You're not cross?"

"That you headbutted me? A little…" She blushed a lovely pink, spreading from her cheeks to her lips. He turned his head to find her curled fingers and kissed her shaking palm. Her skin was lightly scented, it was a comforting smell. He looked back at her and was please to find her closer than before, her face tentative and apologetic.

"I'm going to kiss you…now"

And he did.

Her lips were soft against his.

He felt her fingers cup his cheek more tenderly, pulling him closer to her.

His nose gave a slight twinge.

Warwick Pritchard didn't even care.

After a moment they broke apart. Violet pushed her glasses back up her nose and took his hand in hers, feeling squeezed her warm hand back and grinned at her.

"Can I kiss you again?"

She nodded

…

"You tried to kiss her and she broke your nose?" Spargo threw his head back and roared with laughter. Beryl was trying hard to hide her giggles and Eunice just looked confused. Pritchard was sat down at the kitchen table nursing a cup of tea and a silly grin. Mrs Thackeray casually handed him a bag of something icy as if she had been expecting it.

Johnny patted Pritchard warily on the back "But…did you?…you know…"

Warwickglared at him over the frozen peas.

"I'll take that as a yes then!" The Cook leaned over and pulled the ice away as he winced again, still unable to hide his grin. "Look's like you'll have a lovely big bruise in the morning dear…I hope it was worth it!"

Pritchard excused himself from the table as the staff burst into another round of giggles and gales of laughter. His office was cool and quiet. He breath slowly, shutting the door, and found the lingering image, or sense, of her lips brushing his, her hands on his face.

His mouth curled into that still unfamiliar smile.

"It was." He said to no one in particular "It was worth it."


	4. The Question

Lady Agnes was tired and sore. Having her second child had been incredibly hard work and, although she loved both her children dearly, there seemed to have very little reward for the pain she had been through. Hallam was more distant than ever and she knew it wasn't just the war, the staff were up in arms about their rights and so the normal ladies maid duties were being ignored on the whole and to cap it all her beloved housekeeper Miss Buck was so ill.

She rubbed her aching head wearily and sighed.

She needed company.

All of her female friends (for Hallam had all but forbidden male ones) had rather abandoned her after the whole Blanche scandal. It was so tiresome. Percy was being so odd and aloof at the moment that Agnes really didn't want to antagonise her…really there was no option; hire a ladies maid.

That would certainly solve a lot of her problems and lessen the complaining Beryl's workload. And it wasn't as if they couldn't afford it.

Lady Agnes stretched on the chaise lounge and pulled her dressing gown comfortingly around her, the new plan ticking away in her mind. But how to advertise?

The answer was simple and would require little effort on her part.

Pritchard.

Her devoted Butler knew the intricate works of a household better than anyone and would be quick and efficient in employing a decent hard working girl.

Agnes smiled with satisfaction.

Problem solved.

...

He took her for a walk in the park the next Sunday. "Just like old times!" Violet hugged his arm with hers as they walked down the now familiar path way towards the had become so accustomed to her pace and elegant stride that they walked almost in unison, close and inseparable.

"Has it really been that long?" He enquired with a cheerful quirk of his eyebrow.

"4 months, 5 days…." She trailed off and chewed her lip in what Warwick now alluded to as her thinking face "….not that I'm counting"

"Do you ever think, think of more?"

"More what?"

They stopped in the middle of the pathway, the park was quiet for once and the trees did not rustle as if listening intently for this particular conversation.

Pritchard took a deep breath and, slide his arm out of her grasp and taking her neatly gloved hands instead. "I wondered if you might want to…to marry me?"

Inexplicably she stumbled slightly as if shocked by his words. In pure instinct Warwick threw his arms around her waist to support her, she carefully placed her trembling hands on his shoulders and leaned her forehead gently against his. They were closest they had been since their first meeting, he could clearly hear her heart beating almost franticly in her ribcage and, he gulped, her soft chest and the lines of her back though her thin coat.

He pulled back slightly and Violet brought her hands up around his neck and stroked his nose slowly, tenderly caressing the faded bruise.

Pritchard did not press her for an answer.

She seemed to be weighing it up in her mind. He knew what an inward struggle she faced. Give up her position as a well established ladies maid in one of the most regarded and wealthiest households in London and go to work for the family surrounded by not only one but 4 different scandals? It all depended on…

"I do love you, you know"

Her quiet voice surprised him.

"Are you sure?" His voice came out gruff and distant as if it were not his own.

"Of course I'm sure, you silly man!" Violet managed a shaky smile and her hand faltered at the edge of his lips, brushing against his chin affectionately.

He kissed her then.

Leaning up, softly, gingerly he pressed his lips first against hers and then, at her quiet gasp, he tightened his arms around her waist pulling her closer than ever and letting his kisses trail to her cheek, her nose, her neck…

A bird cooed loudly over head and they broke apart abruptly.

Warwick held her hand tightly and couldn't stop the grin that was spreading itself all over his face. Violet was pink cheeked and slightly flustered, she leaned cautiously against his side, as if recovering from running a race, and breathed heavily. She felt excitable and giddy and young again. How silly it sounded. At some point they started walking again but instead of linked arms their hands remained clasped between them, fingers interlinked.

For a long time there was patient silence, the whole park was quiet, holding on for the answer.

"Yes"

Warwick inadvertently stopped again and turned his head slowly, almost disbelieving, towards her.

"You'll marry me?" His own voice surprised him as it choked with emotion one those three little words. She squeezed his hand with hers and brought it up to her cheek and nuzzled against it. The action was so incredibly intimate and personal. Pritchard sniffed rather pathetically and gave his head a little shake as if to bring back the strong sensible man he usually was, but somehow he was unable to.

"Sorry" He felt so overwhelmed with happiness.

"Here my darling" She had pulled a hankie out of her coat pocket and gently pressed it against his face, dabbing away his silly tears. Slowly she placed her arms around him and pulled him into a hug. A proper comfort hug that is generally reserved for small children or at least Warwick had though so till now. He found his head rested quite naturally on her shoulder and she tentatively reached up and stroked his hair.

"Sorry" His voice was muffled by her coat.

"Hush…come on now" She patted his back in a rather final way and pulled away "We have a lot to plan!"

The rest of the afternoon went by in a daze.

That night, when he finally returned to 165 Eaton Place Violet came with him, her hand still clasped in his.

She got the job without trying.

Afterwards he walked her home under the warm glow of the evening lamps.

"I must say, my dear, that today was much more emotional than expected" Violet smoothed down invisible creases on his over coat as they walked; her arm linked through his the cause of them in the first place.

Warwick smiled; his red tinged eyes had caused raised eyebrows amongst the other staff at 165 leading them to believe that she had rejected him. Mrs Thackeray had glared daggers at Violet before he had explained, though without certain details, that they were happily engaged.

Now as they reached the grand imposing house where Violet worked she stopped and pulled him to down the side of the house into a dark alleyway.

She turned to him cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkling behind her glasses and pulled him towards her. "I wanted to say goodnight properly" Her voice was low and breathy. He grinned up at her and boldly wrapped his arms about her waist.

The kiss was everlasting, so much deeper and more passionate than before. He spread out his fingers to embrace her whole back and she clutched at his collar, stroking his neck. It seemed to surprise them both that they were being so forward but it was so natural, so new and so exciting.

But that's how life was now for Warwick Pritchard.

So new and exciting it made him giddy with happiness.


	5. Doubt

The cinema was quiet and dark. Across the white screen the film flickered in black and white, casting shadows and causing them to dance across the audiences faces.

Violet sat next to Warwick, eyes fixated on the action on screen.

At first they had sat at a respectful distance apart but as the film drew on they had quite naturally drawn together. Her shoulder lent against his arm and Warwick happily supported her weight.

The couple on screen kissed.

Violet snuggled into Warwick and took his hand with both of hers, lightly stroking his fingers, still fixated on the story. He turned his head slightly and took in her profile; glasses shining with the films reflection, head nestled easily in his shoulder. Slowly he placed a chaiste kiss on her forehead and was rewarded a second later with a kiss on his cheek.

Violet giggled quietly and whispered almost coyly into his ear, her voice low and husky "You are distracting me dear"

"Sorry"

They watched the film in companionable silence for a while longer.

She continued to caress his hand lazily but then stopped suddenly and placed it upon her leg.

Pritchards eyes widened and inadvertently he squeaked in shock. Swiftly he turned his head to look at her again but found her staring quite determinedly at the screen, biting her lip. Experimentally he tried to moved his hand but found it held rather firmly in place with both of hers. "Violet? ..." He whispered into her ear, trying to ignore the intoxicating floral sent of her blonde curls. Really, in public? And still unmarried? He could even feel the outline of her stocking! He felt his pulse quicken and gulped so lundly he was sure the whole audience heard him.

She gave his hand a squeeze and then let go.

Her head was a littled bowed now and her profile turned away from him.

Wawick held his breath. What did she want him to do? His hand still rested against the smooth cottom of her day dress. He left it there for a moment longer, turning his face back to the film, impassive and determined.

The film came to and end and they left the theatre.

He tooked her arm, as had become the natural way to walk, and they strolled slowly back homewards.

She didn't talk.

Pritchard felt as if he had done something horribly wrong. He cleared his throat ucomfortably. There was a pause and then she turned her head, meeting his eyes.

"Don't you like it?" Her whisper was barely audible.

Warwick was completely taken aback. He had expected anger but not sadness. Her eyes glinted in dark as the street lamps glowed against her glasses.

"I did…I did…like it…" He had no idea how to respond without offending. "It's simply that we are not yet married…and in public…"

"No one could see" Her voice was so soft, so calm and yet held so much unhappiness.

He stopped walking abruptly and found himself frowning in confusion.

"Did you want me to take advantage of you?" It was not really a question, more an exasperated statement.

There was a pause. It felt like hours passed them by; he straightened his jacket uncomfortably and cleared his throat.

"Yes."

Warwicklooked up at her and found her looking so incredibly lost it broke his heart.

"Violet…what ever is the matter?" He pulled her closer to him and felt her take a shuddering breath. Her hands came to rest lightly on his coat lapel and she fiddled with it nervously.

"I've not…I don't…I haven't…" She sighed heavily and pulled her fast and slipped his arms defiantly round her waist. "I've never been here before, engaged I mean, I have been on this street before!" He chuckled good naturedly and she smiled sadly.

"Surprising as it may seem, I've never been here before either"

Violets smile was genuine this time. It light up her face and she straightened his tie unnecessarily, fussing with smoothing down his shirt. Her hands fell on his chest and remained there, he could feel the heat from her palms causing through his skin into his heart. She raised her eyes from her hands to his lips and blushed. Leaning down slow, cautiously, she placed a kiss upon his lips. This was not as before, before it had been in confirmation of their new relationship, but now it was so much more. It was passion and desire and…love.

In control she broke the deepening kiss and he mumbled disappointedly.

"I gave my notice this morning, in two weeks I move to165 Eaton Place."

Warwickgrinned, partly in excitement but mostly because she was leaning in for another kiss. He happily obliged.

"I have been making arrangements for a…bedroom" She raised her eyebrows, blush deepening. "You don't think we're rushing things?"

She paused for a moment and they continued walking.

"No. I think it's right. It feelings right."

"In two weeks we shall be man and wife!" She held his arm tighter at his words. Their closeness was, as Violet had put it, right.

In his bed that night Pritchard felt a little lost. His bed felt so big and empty. He turned on his side and placed his hand on the pillow beside him, her ladyship had been overjoyed at the prospect of a new ladies maid _and _a wedding. So pleased that she had immediately had Pritchard's room refurbished with a new bed, wallpaper, chair, everything! Mrs Thackery had muttered a bit about it when she'd found out but was happy to see him so content.


	6. A New Life

Violet lay on her bed, aware of how empty her room felt now that her lives collection of belongings was packed up in boxes and her battered leather suitcase. Her ladyship was treating her with a sort of cold happiness, dismissive she might say.

Her household in general had been more shocked than pleased about her upcoming marriage.

The house maids seem rather gleeful about her moving away though.

Sighing she stretched her long legs under the bed clothes and glanced at the cloak on the wall. It was 5:43am. Only 15 more minutes till she needed to get up and face the day. The night had felt longer than usual. It had been 2 days since Warwick had kissed her goodnight and she felt so lost...oh how ridiculous! Pining for the man she loved.

It wasn't so silly really.

She slipped out of her single bed and walked to the window, pulling back the curtain to watch the dawn break. Her room was cold so she slipped a soft woollen cardigan over her plain white nightgown, hugging it about her self and relishing the warmth it gave.

Sleep had evaded her the past night.

Violet was nervous.

Not of marriage, not of Warwick and certainly not of the wedding night, which she was quite excited about though she would never admit it...No, she was worried about letting him down. Of being a disappointment. That was the one thing she feared the most. Being a failure in another's eyes.

The cold air of the morning swirled around her room and told her quite plainly it was time to get dressed. Violet sighed again and ran her hand through her tangled hair, it was going to be a long day.

...

Warwick sat on a park bench alone. He had been sitting in his study waiting for dinner but had suddenly felt so incredibly trapped...maybe it was because every other couple at 165 seemed to be falling apart at the seams. Why? Was it the war? He gulped and closed his eyes tiredly at the on coming headache. There was another thing that was eating his conscience; he had not told Violet the truth about his involvement in the first war. She would hate him.

"Warwick?"

He jumped and stood up abruptly only to find his own Violet standing across the path from him.

"I went to Eaton Place but they told me you'd gone for a walk..." She trailed off, biting her lip.

"Are you scared?"

He blinked in surprise. Her question was so direct, so personal and exactly what he had been thinking. She did seem to be able to read his mind.

He cleared his throat only to find it made his headache worse.

"I am"

Her smile was accepting and he was surprised at the relief that flooded her face.

"Me too"

There was a pause as the tension flickered between them and then quite suddenly they had crossed the distance between then and were in each others arms.

Pritchard clasped her to him, holding her so close, so very close.

Her lips gently pressed against his temple, soothing away the pain and doubt, her touch cool and delicate. He closed his eyes and let her help him. It was new, this feeling, dependence. He was normally so self-sufficant but now he found he needed her so desperately

"Only one more week" He found himself murming aloud, running his hands down the curve of her back, she gasped quietly in response.

"I really should go back now...her ladyship will want to change for bed" Violets voice was reluctant and, judging by the fact her hands were still about his neck, was in no hurry to go. He kissed her once more and pulled away, calm and smiling. Somehow his worry and stress had melted away. She moan quietly and brought her hand up to his face, pulling him back to her.

He kissed her with passion, bringing one hand to to cup her cheek, anything to bring her closer to him. Her sent was intoxicating. In the cool night air her warmth clung to him. It was delightful.

The world around them was forgotten.

...

The train rattled along the countryside with surprising speed. The scenery whipped by the coach windows and went unnoticed by the inhabitants of carriage B4.

Mr and Mrs Pritchard sat in the far corner of their little room, happily reading the newspaper together. Violet was curled up against Warwick, head balanced on his shoulder.

To be perfectly honest the paper didn't hold much interest for Pritchard. He was relishing the security of this new life. The woman beside him was so right, so perfect for him he was still struggling to accept that she existed!

Gently he placed his hand upon her leg and rested it there, letting his fingers absorb the warmth for her skin. She kept her body still, though her breath had hitched at the contact. Violet turned her head and raised an eyebrow enquiringly "In public dear?" Warwick grinned back and moved closer to her, careful to make sure the newspaper she was holding hid his wandering hand.

"We are married now Mrs Pritchard"

She smiled and bite her bottom lip. The action was so innocent, and one he normally associated with her, but yet in this new light it suddenly became (dare he say it?) erotic.

Tenderly he skimmed his fingers over the smooth fabric of her green day dress and felt the surprisingly familiar outline of her stocking. He wasn't sure how to continue from here so he simply sat for a long time stroking the line.

At first Violet attempted to continue reading the column on Oxfordshire gardens but after reading the same line four times (One should always take care when planting new seedlings in spring) she gave up with a sigh, half caught between exasperation and...pleasure.

His touch was light and dainty, as one would have after years in service.

It seemed to be causing her mind to cloud over.

All she wanted was him.

"...Warwick" her voice came out slightly high pitched than usual. "Yes?" His hands seemed to be gaining confidence across her thigh, drawing circles on the dress "I want...more" His hand stopped and she almost let a whimper slip.

There was a pause in which Violet nearly dropped the newspaper she was in such a his voice cut the tension.

"Tell me what to do"

Her breathing seemed a struggle and her thoughts were so jumbled by his closeness. Closing her eyes she took a deep breath and let her desire speak for her.

"Your hand...run you hand along my leg..."

Slowly, suddenly trembling Pritchard ran his hand down to her knee and then brought it back up, causing the fabric to pucker and ripple. He didn't stop, such boldness had suddenly taken a hold of him, his hand continued on up her thigh and came to rest on the curve of her hip.

He could feel the outline of her curves though her skirt.

Violet didn't speak. She was almost afraid of what might come spilling out if she did.

Warwick kissed her forehead lightly, as her head still rested on his shoulder, and was rewarded with a small quiet moan.

He looked down at her profile and was entranced by her expression; lips slightly parted and trembling, eyes closed with a soft fluttered of pale eyelashes and flushed pink cheeks. He had never, NEVER, had such control of a woman. The power was intoxicating.

The carriage door opened with a resounding thud.

They sprang apart, flustered and back in reality.

"Tickets please"


	7. Alive

The little B&B was nice, it sat on the edge of the others at the end of the street. From their bedroom window they could see the sea. The train tickets and the weekend had been paid for by the delighted Lady Agnes and rather disgruntled Lord Hallam. Pritchard had been surprised and rather touched by the generosity.

Violet sat on the edge on the bed and fiddled with the lacy cushions whilst Warwick unpacked, he had insisted. It was strange how caught up in each other they had been on the train and now, when there was a perfectly good bed all of their own, they both seemed to be ignoring it! She slipped of her shoes and lined them up neatly by the end of the bed by the polished metal bed post, more out of habit than anything.

Warwick cleared his throat nervously.

The time had come.

The sound of the sea filled the room and Violet let the gentle rush of the waves lapping the shore calm her. Warwick crossed the room slowly, the floorboards shifting and creaking with his soft footsteps. He sat down on the bed next to her and took her hand in both of his and placed a light kiss on it.

For a moment she stared at her hand, letting her fingers brush against his palms teasingly.

Warwick groaned quietly.

The noise made the little butterflies in her tummy dance and she felt giddy. Before it had always been her; the one to kiss, to take his arm, to tease...but now she had no idea what to do. Should she just pull her dress off and pose like those rude postcards the chauffeur had kept in the garage at her old house?

"Shall we go to bed?" His tone was light and sounded more like he was offering her a cup of tea than a night of passion. Though to be fair Violet wouldn't say no to tea at this point.

Surprisingly his hand was on her leg again.

She stared at it expectancy.

"Can...can I take your stockings off?" Pritchard cleared his throat nervously, aware of how hoarse his voice was becoming.

Slowly she leant against him and buried her head in his shoulder. "My dear, you may do what ever you wish..."

With trembling hands Warwick slide his palm down her leg to the hem of her dark blue day dress and pulled the fabric up so it bunched neatly over her thighs. Her stockings were held up by a white suspender belt. He gulped nervously and placed his hand over the lace.

The clip seemd to spring open at his touch and she lifted her leg ever so slightly to meet to warmth of his fingers.

Coming to kneel in front of her, he slide the stocking off and, in a rather rebellious way, let it fall to the floor. Violet chuckled softly, leaning down to kiss him.

Her lips brushed his forehead at first and then he stood up over her, gaining back the dominant power he had felt on the train, and kissing her full on the lips, one hand still on her exposed leg. He let his kisses trail down her neck till he reached the tightly buttoned collar of her dress, groaning into her intoxicating skin.

"You still have another stocking to do"

Her eyebrows were raised in amusement but her cheeks were flushed a lovely pink. Warwick kissed her playfully on the nose before turning his attention to the leg she was offering him. This time he boldly, teasingly, slipped his hand under the fine material of her stocking and stroked the pale skin as he pulled it off with a florish achived only through years of practice with a tablecloth.

She grinned up at him.

"My turn!"

Shuffling back on the bed, Violet caught his tie with her free hand, pulling him with her onto the bed. "Jacket off!" He hastily pulled off his grey suit jacket and flung it to the floor. Warwick smirked back, eager to please. "Now...shirt"

He fumbled with the buttons as she pulled off his shoes, carelessly throwing them across the room, his socks followed soon afterwards. In his rush Warwick had forgotton to take off his tie, the result of which meant he wasn't able to get his shirt off, no matter how he struggled. Violet leaned over and kissed his cheek lightly "Let me do that dear"

In a flurry of exciting moments, the buttons were undone on her dress and her trousers were kicked off. It was as if they weren't themselves, they were gracful and young and it was lovely.

After most items of clothes littered to room they both stopped and stared at each other for a moment. Tension rippled between them like fire.

"Shall I turn to light off?" He knelt over her, voice deep and yet somehow shy. Violet nodded, eyes wide and horribly nervous.

The bed springs creaked as she shuffled under the covers relishing the warmth of the heavy duvet over her bare legs. Warwick leaned over her and with a light click the lamp was extinguished and only the soft moon gave the room any light.

She felt him moved clumsily back to her in the shadowy light until they were face to face, a breath apart, heads on separate pillows.

Tentatively she reached her hand out until it made contact with his bare chest. She held her cool palm against his hot skin, feeling the steady rythum of his heart. He gave a soft gasp of surprise but snuggled closer, arms coming around her more boldly in the darkness. His fingers fell on lines her lace brassiere and she couldn't help but moan a little. Almost teasingly the garment was undone, one hook at a time till she was left with only her then silk slip. The material was silky and delicate, making his fingers feel big and clumsy.

Violet pressed herself against him and buried her head in his chest "The time has come, my dear" her voice was soft and gently nudged him forward. He brazenly placed his hand on her leg, pulling her slip up and leaning over her.

It first it hurt.

But then it was nice, simple.

It was the togetherness they had always craved.

Once it was over Warwick found himself curled up but her side, head resting on her chest and arms wound protectivly round her waist. Violet lay back on the pillows, eyes half closed and let her mind wonder back to their first meeting; the innocence and the spark of affection. She was so glad she had waited round the courner of the road for him to follow her, so glad had a asked for her name, for a meeting.

She felt his fingertips caressing the bare skin of her waistline and his breath against her shoulderblade. Leaning up and little she kissed his temple and was incredibly contented when he nestled against her and returned her kiss.

The sea hushed any other jarring noise away from them tonight. It was a calming rush of water and pebbles.

And their arms were so intimatly, so sercuerly and naturally around each other that, at that moment, everything was perfect in the world.


End file.
